


You've Got a Friend in Me

by SpraceJunkie



Category: Renegades - Marissa Meyer
Genre: Hugh is a romantic, Hugh's mom dies, M/M, Mom death, also hugh's mom, and Simon is just oblivious, and that's canon, but let it be known', kind of a kid fic?, mentions of depression, she's an oc and it doesn't focus on her so i didn't tag it as major character death, so this is canon compliant, they were childhood best friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 00:45:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19414951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpraceJunkie/pseuds/SpraceJunkie
Summary: Simon tied a scarf around his head and stood on the arm of the sofa wielding a mop like a sword and Hugh laughed so hard milk came out of his nose.It was nice to have a friend.And Hugh revealed how good he was at impersonations, running through everyone in their class saying silly things that made Simon laugh so hard he almost fell over.It was so nice to have a friend.





	You've Got a Friend in Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Simon and Hugh took each other's last names and you can fight me on that and so that's why I call them Simon Everhart and Hugh Westwood it isn't a mistake it is a conscious choice and personal headcanon that nobody can take from me

They met when they were kids.

When Hugh Westwood was the kid who nobody would touch because of the way the metal under his skin felt and Simon Everhart was the kid who flickered out of sight instead of blushing whenever anybody spoke to him.

They were nine years old, almost ten.

Hugh had never known what it was like to not have kids squeal and run away when he tried to play with them, and Simon had just recently started to flicker out of sight when the anxiety that filled his body took over and was trying to adjust to how he’d gone from somebody nobody particularly cared about to somebody everyone hated.

He’d never been in Hugh’s class before, but he’d seen him at recess, always ignored and shoved to the side, but nobody ever tried anything with him, because Hugh was lined with metal and Hugh was so strong he’d bent the monkey bars in kindergarten and everyone was scared of Hugh Westwood.

And Hugh had never really noticed Simon before, because Simon was the quiet kid who sat on a bench and read his book during recess instead of talking to anybody.

But when they were nine, they were in the same homeroom, and three weeks into the school year, Simon disappeared.

And after that, nobody let him be the quiet kid who sat on the benches and read instead of interacting with anybody.

Because nobody messed with Hugh Westwood, but Simon Everhart was a much easier target.

He was tall for his age, but he was skinny and gangly and not very athletic, and he disappeared when he was picked on, and if they stood in a circle he couldn’t get away but the teachers would ignore them because they couldn’t see him and that was enough of an excuse to pick on the prodigy.

So Simon disappeared, and somehow it made him more visible than ever in the eyes of his classmates.

Simon hadn’t paid much attention to Hugh, other than a passing glace here and there to try and figure out why everyone was so scared of him.

After all, Hugh wasn’t that big. He was kind of middle-sized, really, not too tall or too short or oddly thin or noticeably chubby. He had yellow blond hair that fell in a perfect curl right in the middle of his forehead, and when he smiled, which wasn’t very often, he had a big, almost cartoonish dimple on the right side of his mouth.

If people didn’t know that the bent bar on the monkey bars were his fault and his skin had a hard layer underneath it that didn’t even let him get scraped knees, nobody would have been nervous around him, let alone play a mean game called the “Hugh Touch” that made it seem like he was a highly contagious disease.

And Hugh hadn’t really paid attention to Simon until he disappeared, like anyone else.

After all, he never talked in class unless the teacher forced him to. He didn’t have any friends, at least not that anybody could tell, but he didn’t have any enemies or the fourth grade equivalent. He didn’t stick out from the crowd, he wasn’t one of the troublemakers who sat in the back or one of the smart kids who sat in the front, he never failed a test but he wasn’t the top of the class either, and nobody really paid attention to him at all.

If he hadn’t vanished, if his quiet, shaky voice hadn’t suddenly seemed to be coming from an empty chair, if the bright red blush everyone knew came when he got called on hadn’t been replaced with his entire body turning invisible, probably nobody ever would have paid him much attention. He would have always been the quiet, middle-of-the-pack student who sat on the benches and read during recess because he didn’t like to talk to people.

But people did know Hugh had bent the monkey bars, and Simon did disappear, so they never really got to know what those what ifs would have been like.

And so Simon knew who Hugh was and Hugh started to pay attention to Simon about a month into fourth grade.

The first time Hugh really noticed Simon was when their classmates had him trapped in a circle.

Other kids didn’t mess with Hugh. If he’d been able to mess up the metal playground equipment so bad when he was five, nobody wanted to know how bad he could mess them up, even the older siblings who’d heard about the brand new prodigy and wanted a chance to take part in this mean little game against Simon.

They messed with Simon, but they didn’t mess with Hugh, and they didn’t expect Hugh to defend Simon, because Simon didn’t have any friends, because Simon was too scared to talk to anybody.

But Hugh didn’t like bullies, and Hugh knew that if it had been bad for him, the way they ostracized him and threw insults at him and treated him like a mess they wished could be thrown away, it would be ten times worse for a prodigy they weren’t scared of.

So Hugh noticed Simon, invisible and too scared to even beg for them to stop, in the middle of a circle of bullies on the playground, and Hugh gathered himself up and shouted in the scariest voice he could muster until the circle broke up and then he stood in front of the invisible boy he could hear trying so hard to stop crying and glared at anyone who tried to come closer.

And he didn’t tell when he heard Simon run home, he kept pretending he was there, and he pretended to have a conversation with Simon’s empty seat when recess ended, so nobody knew Simon left early.

The next day, Simon was visible again, sitting ramrod straight at his desk in the middle of the classroom, staring really hard at the whiteboard so he didn’t have to look at anybody else.

And at recess, he sat down with his book on the bench he always sat on and hoped so much that they’d leave him alone.

“Can I sit with you?”

That wasn’t something he’d been expecting. Nobody had asked him that, ever.

And when he looked up, it was Hugh, who usually stayed close to the door and avoided everyone else until the bell rang, just like Simon did across the playground but without the book.

“I guess,” Simon said quietly, looking back down at his book.

They didn’t talk any more than that, but nobody came near them, either. Simon read his book and Hugh watched the clouds until the bell rang.

And it wasn’t like Hugh noticing Simon suddenly solved all their problems. When Hugh wasn’t there, they were still just as mean to Simon as they were that first day Hugh noticed him. And Simon didn’t really talk to Hugh that much, they just sat together at lunch without talking and at recess Hugh sat next to Simon while Simon read his book.

But when they sat together, nobody said anything any meaner than usual. Nobody tried to push Simon to see how fast he could blink out of sight. They still dared each other to touch Hugh and ran away shrieking when somebody did. They still laughed when Simon’s voice shook and when he disappeared when a teacher called on him. But nobody messed with Hugh Westwood, and when Hugh was there, nobody messed with Simon Everhart, either.

“What book is that?”

“It’s, um, it’s a science fiction book.”

It took almost two months for Hugh to try and start a real conversation.

“What’s it about?”

“A robot. And, um, a spaceship.”

“I have one about time travel.”

And for the first time in a long time, Simon had a conversation at school without wanting to disappear and for the first time since the beginning of the year, he had a whole conversation while fully visible.

After that, they had quiet conversations at lunch and recess every day. Sometimes it was about Simon’s books, and sometimes it wasn’t, but they both found that it was so much easier to ignore what the other kids were saying when they had words of their own to focus on. It was almost like they had a bubble around them made of their own growing friendship that kept everyone else away from them.

Hugh had never had friends because he’d been born with metal under his skin and was stronger than five grown men when he was five years old.

Simon had never had friends because he couldn’t control his anxiety well enough to talk to anybody, and then his anxiety made him disappear.

And suddenly they had each other.

“My mom says you can sleep over tomorrow night if you want to, Simon.”

“You want me to?”

“Yeah. I think it would be fun.”

“I’ve never had a sleepover before.”

“Me neither.” Hugh smiled, which he did much more often now, and his dimple appeared.

“Okay. I’ll ask my mom.” Simon smiled, which he still didn’t do very often, and didn’t look up from his book.

Hugh knew that was because he was better at staying visible when he was focusing on something that wasn’t a person. It didn’t bother him, especially because he noticed that when they were talking, Simon looked down but didn’t ever turn a page until the conversation paused.

“Addie has the Hugh Touch!” Somebody shrieked from across the playground, and a girl in their class ran out from behind the bench laughing hysterically, her arms outstretched while she tried to tag somebody else to pass the Hugh Touch on to somebody else.

It was a mean game. Hugh hated that he hadn’t even felt Addie touch him, and that the next twenty minutes would be spend hearing the playground shout his name while they pretended he was contagious and terrible and the worst thing that could happen would be to be touched by him.

Didn’t they know it wasn’t his fault? That he hadn’t just decided to have metal underneath his skin, that he hadn’t just decided to have it feel so weird when they touched him, that he hadn’t just decided to be super strong? And that it really made him feel bad when they acted like he was so awful?

The thing was, they did. They knew all of that, and that was part of the fun.

They didn’t mess with him physically, but they were good at messing with him in every other way.

“Why don’t you give me the Hugh Touch?” Simon asked quietly, still without looking up.

“What?”

“I’ll keep it.” Simon was smiling at his book. “High five.” He looked up and held up a hand, his smile growing wider.

And Hugh gave him a high five.

He’d never gotten a high five before.

Ever.

“I have the Hugh Touch.” Simon said in his quiet voice, almost singing it.

Somehow, it didn’t seem mean at all when Simon said it. It was funny, and sweet, and it made Hugh burst into laughter, and that made Simon laugh just as hard.

And the kids who had been playing their mean game a second before stopped and stared in amazement at the two kids laughing on the bench, one of them practically shouting “I have the Hugh Touch! I have the Hugh Touch!” over and over again inbetween wheezing breaths, when none of them had ever heard him speak above a whisper once in their lives.

They stopped playing their game.

Somehow, it wasn’t as fun when Hugh and Simon looked at each other and started to laugh again every time somebody said “Hugh Touch.”

Simon followed Hugh home after school the next day.

Hugh’s mom was warm and welcoming and exactly the opposite of Simon’s parents, who wouldn’t even notice when he didn’t come home because they’d stopped noticing him the first time he disappeared. Ms. Westwood gave him a hug the second he came through the door and already had two plates of snacks on the kitchen table for Hugh and Simon.

And for the first time ever, Simon and Hugh both fell asleep smiling so hard it hurt, after spending hours laughing and playing and building blanket forts. 

Simon tied a scarf around his head and stood on the arm of the sofa wielding a mop like a sword and Hugh laughed so hard milk came out of his nose.

It was nice to have a friend.

And Hugh revealed how good he was at impersonations, running through everyone in their class saying silly things that made Simon laugh so hard he almost fell over.

It was so nice to have a friend.

As time went on, Simon learned that his voice didn’t have be kept so quiet all the time. It was okay to be loud and laugh and even raise his hand if he knew the answer to a question in class. Not often, but once in a while, he was brave enough to do it.

And Hugh learned that was something very fun about having a secret handshake with somebody, about having somebody touch him without making a face, about having somebody other than his mom assure him that he was fine just the way he was.

In fifth grade, they weren’t in the same homeroom, but they were in the same gym class. They were never on the same team, because they were both left for last when teams were picked, but they smiled at each other, and Hugh never got Simon out, even if they were the last two left in dodgeball and letting Simon win meant glares from his classmates for the rest of the day.

And in sixth grade, they were in all the same classes, and in every one that they got to pick their own seats, they sat next to each other.

Until the world went crazy, anyway.

Until Ace Anarchy destroyed city hall and declared himself in charge and everyone’s worlds suddenly flipped upside down.

Hugh stopped coming to school, then, and two days later, Simon got home to find all the codes to unlock the doors had been changed and his mother was watching him out the window looking between terrified and angry, with not a hint of sadness at locking her son out of the house. And so Simon went to Hugh’s house, which had started to feel much more like home, anyway, and like always, Ms. Westwood welcomed him inside with a big hug, but she also whisked him inside and shut and locked the door before anybody could see.

Because it was suddenly a much more dangerous time to be a prodigy, even one whose powers were completely controlled by his anxiety, and it was suddenly much less safe for Ms. Westwood, because people knew about her little boy, and as things got worse, people would want to make sure he wouldn’t cause any trouble.

Even though he wouldn’t. Hugh was a good boy, he wouldn’t ever hurt anybody, let alone join one of the fast-forming gangs that were already claiming pieces of Gatlon as their own.

But still, Ms. Westwood brought Simon inside and gave him a hug and let him cry as much as he needed to and gave him blankets and pillows and the pull out couch in the basement to call his own bed, and made sure he was okay.

And Hugh brought his games down to the basement and they stayed up all night distracting themselves from how scared they suddenly were, how scared they suddenly had to be. Because their world had suddenly turned into the worst possibility, and now being prodigies wouldn’t just get them bullied, it could easily get them killed.

“Look what I can do,” Hugh whispered, leaning in close to Simon on the cold basement floor. “I think I could protect us.” And he held his hand out, palm down over the cement, and Simon watched in amazement as a crack formed and widened and a little ball of silvery metal shot up into Hugh’s hand. “The same as under my skin.”

“How?”

“I can feel where it is, and it does whatever I think.” Hugh concentrated, and Simon’s amazement only grew as the coin-sized blob of metal wiggled and bent until it was shaped like a little dandelion.

A tiny, perfect metal dandelion.

Hugh offered it to Simon, who took it and turned it over and over in his hand, amazed at the tiny little flower Hugh had just called through a crack in the basement floor. When he held it back out to Hugh, Hugh shook his head.

“Keep it,” he said, and in the dim, flickering light and with his attention focused on the little flower, Simon never noticed the blush that rose to Hugh’s cheeks, and so he never paused to consider what it meant.

And by the time he slipped it into his pocket, the blush was gone and Hugh had pulled a corner of the carpet over to cover the crack he’d made in the concrete, and they went back to their game of Scrabble.

Simon eventually stopped going to school, too. His voice had faded back to a whisper, and he spent of his day invisible and shaking, terrified that one wrong move would get him hurt by people who’d almost started to ignore him again in the last couple years, for the first time since he’d disappeared for the first time. It was too much, and he wasn’t learning much when he was so distracted by fear, anyway. So like almost every single prodigy across the city and across the world, Simon just stopped going to school. He stopped going outside. He and Hugh spent their days downstairs, sometimes playing games and sometimes going through workbooks and lessons Hugh’s mom found for them.

Hugh drew pieces of metal out of the small crack in the floor and made them into little figurines when he was bored, which was often. He had a line of tiny animals on the windowsill, facing the street exactly at ground level. They were all very detailed, perfect little statues.

Simon kept his first little dandelion from Hugh on the table next to the couch that pulled out into his bed. He often found himself holding it, turning it over and over in his hands, feeling the tiny details, almost like it was a good luck charm. Especially at night, when it seemed like gunshots or screams or some other horrible sound came from outside every five minutes.

Simon was an anxious person. He always had been, that was why he’d turned invisible in the first place. His anxiety overrode everything else to the point it had literally turned him invisible rather than let him ever be the center of attention.

But running his fingers over and over the tiny little flower made him feel better.

It made him feel the same way it had felt the first time Hugh had asked to sit next to him at recess and he’d realized nobody was going to try and mess with him.

Hugh made him feel safe, and the flower was a reminder of that.

And in a world as upside down and terrifying as the one they lived in, Simon needed that reminder.

By the time they were fourteen, things hadn’t really changed that much.

Hugh was getting restless, done being content with hiding in a basement while things happened around them in the outside world, and Simon was feeling the same, even if he wasn’t as ready to jump into action as Hugh was.

Hugh had big dreams and no real plans to go along with them, but Hugh was also fourteen and invincible and scared and so who could blame him?

And Simon wanted the same things, to have the world go back to the way it was, or even to have the world shift into something better, but he didn’t let himself get caught up in the dizziness of thinking he had all the answers.

He didn’t want to get his hopes up.

“Your clothes go invisible when you do, right?”

“No, I strip down naked really, really fast every time I disappear.”

“So can you make other things invisible, too?”

“I dunno, Hugh, it’s your turn.” Simon watched Hugh try to plan out a strategic move and eventually give up, moving his little Monopoly piece straight ahead like he was playing real Monopoly and not the complicated rewritten version he and Simon had made up.

“Have you ever tried?”

“I barely control it when I go invisible, so no.”

“You should. Here.” Hugh gently tossed a book from next to him at Simon, who flinched but managed to catch it. “Now…turn invisible!”

Simon laughed slightly and focused, trying to make himself disappear. He was getting better at it, but it still wasn’t completely under control.

“Huh. Guess I can make other things turn invisible,” he said when he opened his eyes and looked down to see that the book was gone with the rest of him.

“Hold my hand.”

“What?”

“Turn back and hold my hand and disappear again. I wanna know if you can make me invisible, too.”

Simon concentrated again and brought himself back, tossing the book aside and reaching out to take Hugh’s hand. When he disappeared again, Hugh’s hand went with him.

“Oh, that’s so gross,” Hugh said, staring at where the invisibility stopped a couple of inches up his arm.

“Yeah, it is.”

They could see right into Hugh’s arm, the bone and muscles and even the thin layer of metal right under the skin.

Hugh squeezed Simon’s hand, and Simon looked up at his face.

He had it all scrunched up as he stared at his arm, disgusted. His nose and forehead were wrinkled, making him squint. He was squeezing Simon’s hand tightly, almost like he was scared if he didn’t keep squeezing so tight it almost hurt, his hand would just be gone completely, not just invisible.

For some reason, Simon was suddenly feeling weird. His stomach was flipping over and over, almost like he was going to be sick, but he didn’t feel sick. He could feel his face heating up, too, and he knew that if he wasn’t invisible he would be bright red.

And then Hugh let go of his hand and watched his own blink back into sight, and Simon shook off the weird, fluttery feeling, and waited for the blush to fade before letting himself come back to visibility, and he didn’t think much more about it. Why should he?

After all, he was Simon and Hugh was Hugh and everything was going to be the same for the foreseeable future. They were best friends, trapped inside, scared of the world outside the house, and there was no need for the only good part of that to change.

They were best friends, and it was so nice to have a friend.

So Simon ignored the butterflies and didn’t think any more about what they might mean.

It probably would have been the same forever if Ms. Westwood hadn’t gotten sick.

At first, it had seemed like a cold, but instead of getting better, it got worse and worse. And when Simon and Hugh were sixteen, they both knew she needed medicine and they both also knew every hospital in Gatlon was completely under gang control.

And Ms. Westwood got sicker and sicker but she made them both promise not to join a gang to help her. Simon watched the woman who had taken him in without a second though start to die, and Hugh watched his mom start to die, and both of them wanted to break that promise if it meant saving her, but she held both of their hands tightly and they knew no matter how much they wanted her to survive, nothing could ever be better if they joined the people who had turned the world into hell for everyone.

So when they were sixteen, they watched her die and neither of them had ever felt so helpless, so powerless, so useless in their entire lives.

Simon watched Hugh crumble. Watched him stop eating and stop sleeping and stop getting out of bed, just lying under the covers and staring at the ceiling, often with tears in his eyes. And after two days of trying his best to help, Simon crawled into bed with him. He wriggled under the covers and pushed in as close to Hugh as he could get and closed his eyes and tried to psychically project exactly what it meant to him.

That he was there, that he understood, that he was going to stay right by Hugh’s side until he was ready to face the world again.

And it took a long time. Simon learned that the best way to sneak out and get food was to wait until just before sunset and turn invisible before leaving the house and only take when he could make invisible with him. He sometimes felt bad for stealing, but he only ever took enough to keep them alive, and he was doing whatever it took to survive.

Hugh learned that sometimes the best way to start to heal was to let somebody else help. To let Simon sleep in bed with him and to let Simon cook for him while he struggled to find his feet again. And it was hard. It was hard to know that he maybe could have saved his mom and he hadn’t, even if she hadn’t wanted him to because of what that would mean for his future, and it was hard to know that she wasn’t coming back, that he didn’t really have a family any more.

It was just him and Simon against the world now.

But even as he started to feel better, he didn’t stop letting Simon sleep with him.

It was comforting to have Simon fall asleep with his head on Hugh’s chest, to be able to feel his breathing and know that they were together and not alone while sirens and gunshots and horrible noises never seemed to stop outside in the dark. They had each other, and maybe that more than anything was the reason Hugh was able to get better and recover and heal.

He wasn’t alone.

He always had Simon to rely on.

He didn’t notice the tiny metal dandelion that eventually moved to his bedside table, but Simon put it there when it was obvious his move into Hugh’s room was at least semi-permanent.

Simon started to notice things, though, that he wasn’t exactly sure why he was suddenly paying attention to.

When they were little, he had noticed Hugh’s dimple and the curl that fell in the middle of his forehead, but he hadn’t really paid much attention to it. And suddenly, he caught himself noticing things like that constantly, all the time, for no real reason. They’d be quietly eating breakfast, and Simon would absentmindedly think about the way the sunlight reflected off Hugh’s hair. Or Hugh would be asleep and Simon would still be half awake and he’d catch himself reaching up to brush the curl away from Hugh’s forehead.

But just like the flutters that he sometimes got when Hugh was holding his hand or hugging him, Simon ignored it and moved on and didn’t even really wonder about it.

Because they were friends, and thinking about anything that might change that was terrifying.

Because it was so nice to have a friend, and they needed to have a friend.

Hugh, on the other hand, had been well aware that he was in love with Simon Everhart since they were ten years old.

How could he not be? Simon was kind and smart and caring and Hugh’s best friend in the world, Hugh’s only friend in the world.

And that was one of the reasons having Simon share a bed with him was so comforting. Why noticing Simon’s things slowly moving up from the basement into his room made him happy.

But even though he knew he was in love with Simon, and even though he sometimes felt like maybe Simon might even love him back, he wasn’t willing to try anything, because they were friends. Best friends. Each other’s only friend.

And it was so nice to have a friend, so necessary to have a friend, that anything that could mess that up wasn’t worth it at all.

So Simon ignored the things he didn’t understand, and Hugh pulled Simon close every night and ignored his feelings, because both of them thought their friendship was too important to even risk messing it up.

But even though they both ignored some of their feelings, whether they understood them or not, the next thing that happened was the most natural thing in the world.

It was early morning after a particularly quiet night.

Simon woke up with Hugh’s arms wrapped around him and his head on Hugh’s chest.

Hugh woke up feeling warm and comfortable and safe.

And Simon rolled over but didn’t move off of Hugh, so that his head was propped up and he was looking into Hugh’s eyes, and Hugh kept one arm wrapped tightly across Simon’s waist, and they talked.

Neither of them would ever end up remembering what they talked about, but it seemed like a long conversation. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was only a couple of short sentences about nothing in particular.

But it ended with Simon leaning down without thinking. Kissing Hugh without thinking. Because that just seemed like how it should go, like they’d been together for a long time and like they weren’t seventeen year old kids lost in a terrifying world and were instead a normal couple who lived together and had been together for a long time. Simon didn’t think at all, just leaned down close and kissed Hugh softly and quickly and like he’d done it a million times before, and Hugh smiled and hugged him tighter and gave him the same kind of kiss back.

Because that didn’t really need much thought. It really was the most natural thing in the world, and both of them kind of realized at the same time that maybe that was because they kind of had been a couple for a long time, at least in a lot of ways.

So they’d laughed together, and stayed in bed much longer than usual to talk and be close and to realize how sweet a kiss could be.

After all, what better things did they had to do? They were living in a world that either hated them or wanted to use them for who they were. They didn’t have anywhere to go. Why shouldn’t they stay in bed all day to talk and laugh and be together and be comfortable and forget their fear for a day.

Didn’t they deserve that break?

And it really was amazing how little difference the shift in their relationship made. They still slept in the same bed at night like they had been doing for a year. Simon still noticed himself paying attention to little details that wouldn’t have mattered when they were little, and Hugh still knew he’d been in love with Simon since they were ten years old.

But now Simon knew what they meant, and Hugh realized that their relationship didn’t have to change all that much for them to be a couple, and they shared kisses, too.

And it was still so nice and so necessary to have a friend, because that hadn’t changed one bit.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey I'm Asper, I'm a big lesbian, and Simon and Hugh are the father figures I've been looking for this whole time. My emotional support canonically gay superhero dads. My emotional support in general. I love them.
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr @graybeard-halt, one day I will be officially recognized as a member of this fandom and that day will be my shining moment!
> 
> Please leave a comment if you liked it, or if you hated it. Also, there's a way to leave pictures in the comments and I don't know if anybody cares but that was life changing for me to find out I literally lost my mind when somebody commented with a John Mulaney picture sjdgkjsgdjklagld
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you liked it!


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